Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel

by Ryans, Rae Z.

  “You going to play with my guns?”

  I shook my head and my siblings laughed. In time, I’d learn the roles they played in Cain’s survival, and they would answer for keeping the truth from me. Their lights flashed again leaving us alone at the farm. My grip tightened, hands shaking.

  Cain’s lips hovered, his breath caressing me in heat. “Or are you going to kiss me already—”

  I lifted him from the ground and spun us. His words found silence in my mouth.

  “I love you,” we said together, and have continued our love all days since.

  Thank you for reading. Please help others find this book, and let them know what you think, by leaving a review.

  A Sneak Peek at Lilith and Gabriel in

  Captivated

  Beyond the Brothel Walls #3

  Prologue

  Enoch the Metatron

  The Voice of God

  Metatron paced in the observatory, clouds covering his view of Earth from Heaven. He lowered his dark head and shook it. Father wouldn’t release him until he discovered the truth and solved the mystery of betrayal. A single question lingered on his tongue:

  “Who opened the gates of Hell?”

  His narrowed eyes glared at his magical cube, sitting on the ledge overlooking the cosmos. Mocking him, the artifact offered no imagery in reply. Inside the metallic wonder, he’d stored the history of the universe from the creation to a nanosecond ago. Always, it was recording, and yet his cube refused to show him the truth.

  “Enoch,” Father summoned him.

  But a sliver of golden radiance peeked from a tiny crack in its smooth surface. Metatron halted and cocked his baldhead, his brown hand reaching forward.

  “Enoch, I need you.” Father’s essence manifested into the observatory, wavering, but not taking a solidified form.

  Metatron bit his sigh and swallowed it. He glanced at the cube. Every trace of light had dissipated.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Michael has discovered a young woman, another child of Lucifer’s—”

  Rattling sounded behind him, and he spun around. His cube refracted beams, scattering its coppery luminance throughout the white-walled observatory.

  “Gabriel…” Father spoke, but the artifact burst into a cloud and imageries reflected from its vapor surface.

  Year 3167, Fort Garland, Garland—12 years post-apocalypse

  Lilith Westcott focused on the “G” embroidered into the guard’s uniform, while he pinned her against the wall and squeezed her throat. The world distorted, but she couldn’t travel away. Not that time.

  Ceiling bits rained on her. Fort Garland’s fortified-brick walls rumbled behind her bare back. But the guard’s wide eyes offered no comfort. He loomed before her, thrusting harder. Another blast vibrated through her backside, tearing her into reality and further distorting the safe place her mind had retreated during the rapes and beatings.

  Former Earth flickered into her mind before tearing asunder; it had so done twelve years ago. Iron bars slammed around her, swirling with magical energy, and a coppery haze tinted the air. Grunting, the guard pulled himself free, scowling at the cracking ceiling and thundering boots battering over the floors.

  At least he hadn’t finished, and she cradled the thought against her exposed breasts.

  “Getting too close,” he said. “Guess I best go investigate, huh, Roxie?”

  Lilith didn’t respond to her slave name. She didn’t move. Inside, she was already dead. Motionless like those in the surrounding cells, but her heart was still beating, lungs breathing. But their bodies were lifeless because of her.

  “You’re on your own, Rox.” He yanked up his uniform pants.

  Her legs and back slithered along the wall to the ground. The guard ran his tongue over his teeth, and she swallowed the rising bile.

  “Oh, I’ll be back to finish, sweet thang.” He hooked her chin and forced her gaze. “Such a perty mouth.”

  Gray smoke snaked through the iron bars, chasing the copper away, and Lily crawled toward her cot, scraping her kneecaps on the dirt and hiding her aching, filthy, and bruised face behind a curtain of matted curls.

  Her guard opened the entrance to her cell, closing and locking it behind him. His footsteps carried, and she stole a glance; his fat ass disappeared into the stairwell.

  Chains binding her wrists rattled but didn’t reach underneath the only measure of safety in her cell. Grasping the iron, she yanked, as if it would give more slack or break free from the rusted base.

  “C’mon.” She gritted her teeth and heaved again, wishing for a flaw in the chain mirroring the weakness of her body.

  Instead of cowering beneath the cot, Lilith curled into a tiny ball, tucking her knees and chin against herself. On the streets above, a woman screamed and children cried, quickly overpowered by the popping gunfire, tremoring earth, and crackling blazes. Dust and debris trickled from the ceiling with each quake.

  “Please, God, just kill me,” Lilith prayed. Plaster covered her face, mixing with the humid sweat coating her skin. “Let the nightmare end. Forgive me, Father, forgive me.” Another explosion rattled her bones. She shuddered and yipped. “I didn’t know they’d find us... I didn’t mean it... It was an accident.”

  Lily had prayed the same every night before bed and every morning on waking. Sometimes, she prayed for a time machine to erase the last three hundred years she’d spent as a Garland slave, to erase the magic she’d unleashed in Nova Scotia that lead to her recapture and the murder of her friends. If she had such a machine, she would’ve erased her ancestor and his mighty fall from grace.

  Heavy boots thumped along the stairs, and she held her breath, forcing her gaze away. Maybe they will ignore me... If only I could make myself disappear.

  Hiding her head, she continued praying, begging God to forgive her sins, for allowing the men to use her, for whatever she did that made them covet her. Lily prayed for the strength to refuse them, to rid herself of the chains binding her to the masters.

  His reply arrived in more explosions and a voice. “Gabriel, I found a live one. Last cell.”

  Lily peeked through her tangle of dark curls at the two men, clad in all black save for their massive wings. Seraphim, she was certain.

  “Archangels. Behind you,” she said, but not loud enough. The guard returned and drew a strange three-pointed weapon. Pointing, her finger trembled, and she mouthed the words. “Guard.”

  Gabriel shouted over the blasts, “Are you Lilith? Lilith Westcott?” before raising and firing his silver gun into the guard’s chest.

  Covering her ears, she blinked at him. How did he hit him without looking? But as more explosions rumbled beneath her bare feet, she cowered in the corner of her jail cell again.

  He withdrew a photo from his black cargo pants and glanced to the tintype, smirking. “It’s her. Get those bloody keys, Michael.” His gray wings flexed, shimmering like a jewel, and he cracked his neck. “Listen, luv, I’m here to help you. Your brother sent me.”

  Cain, yes, they had arrived in Garland together on the same airship. Her mouth opened and closed. Michael tossed him the keys.

  Archangels... Michael... Gabriel... God finally answers my prayers.

  “I’m coming in for you, and I’m not going to hurt you,” Gabriel said, holding his hands in the air. Guns littered his body, strapped here and there, and he carried more than the Garland guards did.

  Lily drew herself into a tighter ball, peeking at the coppery haze surrounding his aura; the same color always brought her comfort in her special place. Even though she was sure, she had to ask, “Who... are... you?”

  “I’m Gabe,” he said, his two-toned gaze locking onto hers, one azure blue and the other a steely gray. He nodded to the blond-haired angel. “That’s Michael.”

  However, Lilith couldn’t look away, and her heart raced. Inside, she fluttered, as if flying. Gabriel, God’s Messenger.

  He inserted the skeleton key into the lock and
turned it. The door creaked and groaned on its hinges, banging when it hit the end. Gabriel’s feet shuffled over the dirt floor, and he knelt at her side. “And you are?”

  “Lily,” she whispered, grasping at her scorching throat. Fire exploded in the hallway. Gunshots echoed in her head, pulsed in time with her heart, but her name screamed louder within the confines of her mind. No one had called her Lily in over three hundred years. Only another Westcott or Jules himself would’ve recalled her name.

  “S’alright now, luv. I’m going to take you away from all of this, but I need to see your hands.” He jingled the keys.

  Lily still couldn’t look away from his eyes. So cold and dark, yet drawing her in and captivating her curiosity, but not like the masters’ eyes. Where hatred and malice would’ve shone, Gabe reflected a different emotion, one she couldn’t name.

  He fiddled with the keys, glancing down and breaking eye contact. Bits of plaster littered his midnight hair, and her fingers itched to run through the curly mass. Her nails dug deeper into the dirt while he released her shackles.

  “Michael, do we have clothes for the Lady Lilith?” he asked over his shoulder, before piercing her with his gaze again. “Rag was right about Lucifer’s children. You are beyond the words of beauty.”

  At beauty, she inclined her head.

  Michael replied, “Bed sheets?” and tossed one through the open cell door.

  “Inside and out.” Gabriel wrapped the sheet around her and scooped her into his arms. “Mind the wings, yeah?”

  She clung to him, trembling from head to toe; the smoldering world whizzed by her head. Plastic and metal jutted into her bony frame from his uniform. His voice trailed into the ricocheting pings and booms, and she settled her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his earthen cologne. Shifting in his arms, her fingertips brushed the downy soft, high ridge of his wings, and he quivered from the touch.

  “Your prayers brought me to you...”

  They eased into the blazing night, farther from the Arch demon’s device binding her power, and his thoughts flowed into her mind.

  “I’ve heard her for so long, but couldn’t find her.”

  Was she a disappointment to him? He halted, sliding into an alley. Guards in green Garland uniforms jogged past them toward a fire. Beneath his shirt, his heart pounded as hard as hers did.

  “Father, forgive me.”

  Gabriel deposited her on the ground and pressed a finger to his lips. Withdrawing a Colt Peacemaker, he gave a nod, followed by a peek around the corner. His free hand tapped on his thigh.

  Metal clacked against metal. Smoke burned her eyes. Shots rang and she shrieked. He raised his weapon, stepped away from the brick wall, and returned fire. She couldn’t see; she didn’t want to see and shut her eyes.

  “Lily?” a stranger’s voice said her name. “Gabriel’s going to take you away from here. He’s going to take you to Sheol.”

  “Sheol?” she questioned, but the flying bullets and crackling blazes drowned out her voice.

  Opening her eyes, she gaped at a colossal, talking skeleton, robed in silver and holding a jeweled scythe. Lilith’s fingernails scraped at the orange clay, scurrying away, until her back hit the garrison wall. Gabriel, Michael, and the skeleton man discharged more rounds, pausing and taking cover to reload, and her hands flew to her ears.

  “Dorian, over there,” Gabriel said, while Garland’s men returned fire.

  They spoke with their hands, pointing and shaking their heads.

  Dorian, the skeleton, shouted, “Aim for the barrels. At least they won’t be able to follow in their flying contraption.”

  Michael nodded toward her and said, “Gabe, you need to get her to safety.”

  “If anyone can hear me. Tell Dorian, Cain’s in the hospital,” her brother’s draw filtered through the noise.

  “Dorian?” she asked, voice pitching.

  The skeleton man spun around and tilted his head.

  “My brother…Cain…the hospital...” A vortex surrounded the skeleton, and she shielded her eyes from the sand. “Boric’s holding him there,” she added, dropping her hand from her face.

  “He said that?” Dorian asked, no longer a skeleton, but an olive-skinned man with a strong jaw and glowing, green eyes the shade of emeralds.

  “I can see him,” she said, unsure how to explain her gift. She didn’t spot Cain in the flesh, but his fading lavender aura streamed through the town. Gabe’s emitted coppery hue, and Michael’s revealed a shade shy of midnight blue. Dorian’s was black. “I can see all of them.”

  “Who do you see?” Michael asked, kneeling in front of her. His white wings extended beyond his broad shoulders. He reached for her, and she flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you. Gabriel—”

  “Leave her be. I’m taking her home.”

  Home? She had no home. “What about the others?”

  “I’m here for you, Lily, just you.” Unspoken, he thought, “And Dorian’s here for Cain.” He sat beside her on his knees and stretched his arms toward her.

  Shivering, her mind replayed the events, the deaths of her cellmates. Her hands covered her ears. “No, no, no it’s all my fault,” she cried. “I’ve killed them.”

  Michael angled his head, but she couldn’t read his mind. Gabe’s thoughts flashed through images, the empty cells in the prison where Garland’s men had held her hostage. The guards had emptied them of life, but the bodies had remained.

  Eternal silence had followed their screams. Lily would’ve been next, if not for Gabriel and Michael who both slowly nodded, as if following her thoughts. Mentally she reinforced her safeguards. Another thought flittered through her head. A secret. They’d saved her baby, too, the one growing in her womb.

  Gabriel holstered his weapons before lifting her from the ground, slipping her hands around his neck. “Hold on and don’t let go no matter what, petal.”

  Petal? Copper haze flared to life, and she buried her face in his chest. Gunpowder, the ocean, and earthy, masculine sweat calmed her and tightened her belly. The reaction was unlike any she’d experienced before.

  Light faded. Darkness encircled her, and wind whipped her hair. Warmth bled into cold; her teeth chattered. Whooshing filled her ears from Gabriel’s wings working harder. But he focused on Lily, and his mind said what his mouth did not. “I finally found her, Father. I told you she was worth falling for. Worth the curse you placed upon my head.”

  Whom had he found, what type of curse could’ve plagued an Archangel?

  Acknowledgements

  Many people helped bring this story to life. Writing is only one aspect of creating a book.

  I’d like to thank my alpha reader, Aimee LaValle. My beta readers, you ladies all rock, and I would be lost without your guidance. My designer, Zack at Raven Tree Design, who helped shape the cover and develop the theme for this saga.

  Book bloggers and readers for taking a chance on an unknown author, I thank you too.

  If you enjoyed Altered, please leave a review or send me a message. I love to hear feedback from fans—good or bad.

  Love, Rae Z. Ryans

  Coming Soon

  Captivated (Beyond the Brothel Walls #3) 2016

  Sign up at www.raezryans.com for news about upcoming titles.

  Also available on Amazon and other major retailers,

  Chivalry and Malevolence: Alfheim Book One

  About the Author

  Rae Z. Ryans is a member of the RWA and RWA Fantasy, Futuristic, and Paranormal chapter. She currently resides in Alabama with her family. Published since the age of fourteen, Rae enjoys writing romantic, erotic, fantasy/paranormal stories and poetry. Her name pays homage to her brothers: Specialist Ryan D. Rexon and Zachary U. Berthot.

  She is currently working on Beyond the Brothel Walls #2: Altered. This post-apocalyptic paranormal romance is emotionally driven, dark fantasy.

  www.facebook.com/raezryans

  www.raezryans.com

 

  Ryans, Rae Z., Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel